


Stars Fading

by Bonymaloney (orphan_account)



Series: Melt With You [7]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Apparently this turned out to be a honeymoon fic., Blood mentioned, Claustrophobia, Dream Sex, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreamsharing, Established Relationship, Fishing, Frottage, Injury Mentioned, Insomnia, Introspection, Love, M/M, Oral Sex, Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-09-27 22:36:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10054616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Bonymaloney
Summary: Robbie's latest invention goes horribly wrong, and he ends up trapped Sportacus' dreams. It's not as much fun as he thought it would be, because Sportacus has to face some of his biggest fears in order to save him.





	1. Chapter 1

Sportacus asleep was a work of art, Robbie mused, and like all the best works of art the sight of him could inspire a whole range of passionate responses. There was the satisfaction, pleasure, and ok, just a hint of smugness, that came from having tired him out through his skill as a lover. The oddly similar sense of pride when Sportacus was exhausted after struggling against a successful bit of villainy. The tooth clenching heart wrenching sensation when he looked at his husband sleeping peacefully and realised he loved him so much he could barely walk. Times when Robbie could either snuggle up beside him or else press a kiss to his forehead and get up to make a head start on the morning's schemes. 

There were the other times though, times like now when Robbie was desperate to sleep and couldn't, when the only thing saving Sportacus from being launched via cannon towards the nearest body of open water was the fact that he was too heavy for Robbie to move. 

Elves were made of denser materials than humans, that had to be it. Different muscles, different bones. 

"Dense," he hissed at Sportacus' back. "Like a blue blockhead."

Sportacus weighed the mattress down, so that when Robbie tried to stretch out next to him he ended up sliding closer and closer until they were pressed together. And then there was the body heat of Sportacus, the soft steady sounds of his breath... the fact that nine times out of ten those things helped Robbie fall asleep didn't mean that he didn't hate them right now. 

"Pathetic," he muttered to himself. "You used to be able to stay awake three, four days at a time. Marriage has made you soft..."

Giving up on the idea of staying in bed, Robbie growled and dragged himself through to the front of the lair. The memory of the time before, before the beginning of his understanding with Sportacus, had given him the seeds of an idea. 

He rummaged through the cupboard until he found it. An orange device, like a cross between a water pistol and a hand whisk, with an elaborate silver array along the top. The Dreamnapper 3000! Robbie had never actually used it on Sportacus, but as long as it worked as planned, which his inventions always did give or take a certain unavoidable statistical margin, what could go wrong? 

He staggered back into the bedroom, feet dragging though the luxurious purple carpet, and allowed himself a villainous little chuckle as he pointed the device at Sportacus and fired...

Nothing? That was the one thing he really hadn't expected. Perching on the edge of the bed, he hefted it again, examining the trigger mechanism and the power display, placing it to his ear and giving it a shake. Finally, he peered down the barrel. Was that a loose wire? It was hard to tell with so little light. In a genius-level display of sleepless logic, he squeezed the trigger, hoping to see the problem by the resultant flash. 

The Dreamnapper fell to the ground, and the array bent and snapped, but Robbie didn't notice. 

... he was falling, and then as he landed, jolted by the impact, his senses were overwhelmed by the sound of grass growing, the smell of blue sky, the taste of the sun...

Robbie felt dizzy and sick. He was inside Sportacus' dream, inside his mind, and by human standards elves were _insane_. 

The same thing applied in reverse, of course, but Sportacus didn't seem to be suffering from Robbie's presence. He was walking with the kitten, of all things, conversing in a language that sounded like what little Robbie knew of Elvish, interspersed with more growls and a high pitched chattering sound. Robbie found that if he stopped trying to listen to the words and instead just relaxed into Sportacus, the meaning became clearer somehow. They were sharing techniques for climbing trees, secrets of hidden places around Lazytown. Robbie filed a few of them away for future use. 

There was music playing in the background, which Robbie initially assumed was a general part of Sportacus' psyche, but as they kept walking it grew louder, and suddenly they were standing in a crowd, lining the route of a parade. It was the celebration that marked the death of winter and the start of spring, an old piece of magic handed down between humans and elves, although for most people it was just an excuse to eat candy and set fire to a giant papier-mâché snowman. 

Robbie found that he could flip back and forth between his own perception of the event as noisy and annoying, and Sportacus' feelings of 'music-dancing-FUN!', like one of those optical illusions where you could see both the vase and the rabbit. He concentrated on that for a while as the carnival passed by, until he and Sportacus both were startled by an arm, slipping round his waist. 

Sportacus leaned back against a tall, warm, solid figure, and Robbie realised with a start that Sportacus was dreaming about him. To an outside observer they would have just been a couple in the crowd, notable only in that they were the hero and villain of one of the smaller towns along the parade route. But Sportacus' heart felt light, he relaxed almost imperceptibly, and Robbie became aware of a sense of well being perfusing through him, of feeling protected and approved of and loved...

Robbie was oddly, deeply moved. The dark, self-hating little part of him always wondered what Sportacus really got from their relationship. To know that he felt loved, felt happy, felt _safe_ , despite his own bulging muscles, with Robbie around...

It was wonderful, and despite being a disembodied consciousness he felt himself preen. He wondered how likely Sportacus was to turn around, suddenly desperately curious to see himself, to see how Sportacus imagined his body, his face, his hair...

...but the sounds were growing muffled and his vision was fading in and out, and he realised Sportacus must be waking up. 

Robbie was congratulating himself on a very interesting and highly successful experiment, when he blinked out of existence. 

Sportacus' eyes snapped open, and he smiled to greet the day. He sprang out of bed, stretched and jumped a few times, just to get the blood pumping. Pajamas were a wonderful human invention, and he was so happy that Robbie had made him a pair, but he couldn't wait to get his uniform on, get some sportscandy and get on with the day. 

He smiled fondly down at Robbie, relieved his recalcitrant husband was finally asleep. He was in an odd position through, face down and almost half way off the bed. Sportacus scooped him up gently, laying him out in a more comfortable position, but something checked him, something wasn't quite right. 

There was no imperious little frown on Robbie's face, no malicious grin or blissful smile. Usually a light sleeper, even just covering him with a blanket usually provoked some response, let alone moving him. His chest rose and fell steadily, but otherwise he was still as a stone....

Sportacus suddenly became aware of the beeping sound coming from the corner of the room, where his clothes were semi-neatly folded on his chair, and realised that that was what must just have woken him up. He grabbed the crystal, hoping against hope that the source of the trouble was outside the pair, the mayor stuck on a window ledge or Stingy's brakes failing at three miles an hour or _something..._

But the pull of the crystal directed him firmly back to the motionless, unrouseable Robbie.


	2. Chapter 2

"Robbie. It's morning, Robbie."

That often meant little to the sleeping villain. Sportacus tried a different tack. 

"It's time to wake up, Robbie. The kids want to fly a kite, you can try out those remote control scissors you've been working on..."

Still no response. Robbie was motionless, face empty. His breath hissed softly, in and out, and in the silence of the lair the sound felt oppressive. 

Sportacus made pancakes, in case the smell might somehow wake his husband, but to no avail. He picked miserably at the berry garnish, added more out of habit than because Robbie ever ate it, then bounced on the balls of his feet, wondering what to do next.

The crystal bleeped again. "Yes, I know," he muttered, but the feel of it was different this time, it was far away. Torn with indecision, after a few seconds he heeded its pull. Robbie was safe, he was comfortable. Just asleep, Sportacus told himself. 

Nevertheless, he set a new speed record in retrieving Stingy from the space behind the sofa where he'd got stuck looking for coins. He brushed the boy off, and without a backwards glance he was off back to the lair. Robbie's condition was unchanged, and his heart sank all over again. 

Cradling Robbie gently, he carried him to the airship. He flew them to Big Town, trying his best to ignore the tension of leaving his responsibility and his home, and took Robbie to the clinic, where everyone agreed that Robbie was mostly human, and that his vital signs were normal for a human, but that there was no way to wake him up. The magic users thought it was a medical problem, the medics felt it was clearly a curse. Sportacus agreed to bring Robbie back in two days, sooner if there was any change. 

Sportacus circled slowly above Lazytown, barely able to breathe. Guilt for ignoring the kids, anxiety over Robbie, and confusion. Robbie had always denied being magical, usually directly before clicking his fingers in order to summon some small object he'd left in another room. It was one of the little ways he messed with Sportacus, that Sportacus loved. But it wasn't helpful now, no one knew who he was, or how to help...

A rattle, and a tube of mail popped up in front of him. He caught it reflexively. Three words in a heavy, black scrawl. 

"Let me up."

The sight of Robbie without makeup, usually after a shower or after sex, was pleasant to Sportacus. It made him look softer. On Glanni, however, it was merely disconcerting. The bags under his eyes and his dishevelled hair made him look even more sinister than usual. He glared at Sportacus by way of greeting, then switched his gaze to Robbie and didn't look away. 

"A _colleague_ of mine told me, said he saw him at the hospital. What happened?"

Sportacus took a deep breath. For a second he didn't know where to begin, and then it was like a dam breaking. 

"... and people are saying he's magic, but no one knows what kind, and no one knows if he's human, but they think he seems normal for a human except for the fact he's asleep all the time, and I can't help him and I can't wake him up!"

"Hmm." Glanni pursed his lips and frowned, regarding his son like an intricate lock to be picked. "Well, he is human. At least, I am, and his mother... she was magnificent, but I'm pretty sure she was all human too. As for the magic... have you ever heard of the Brísingamen?"

"Obviously. It went missing from the museum..."

"The thing is, people trust you more for some reason when you have a baby. What a doting father, they think, getting his son right up close to the display like that, so he can have a really good look. And a pram is a good place to hide all sorts of small objects. I left it in there with him for a little while, and then before you know it... teleporting baby." He was smiling fondly down at Robbie, as though he still saw the child he'd been. "He used to cause so much trouble..."

"So it's ancient magic, passively absorbed, and he never properly learned how to use it." It made sense, Sportacus thought, that he'd learned it as an infant. Robbie's magic was normally used for instant gratification, and was often wildly unpredictable. 

"Yeah, it's gonna be a tough one..." 

Glanni seemed to look more closely at Sportacus. "But you... you look like shit, and that's saying something, for your kind. It's getting dark. Sit down, eat some fruit or something." The surprise must have shown in Sportacus' face. "He'll never let me hear the end of it, otherwise."

Sportacus drank some water and ate most of an apple. He felt his eyelids grow heavy, and he couldn't stop yawning. 

"Go to bed. I'm going to send out for a pizza. I'll wake you if anything changes, or if the blimp starts crashing or something. Cross my heart."

It was cold, and Sportacus was walking along a mountain path. Up ahead he could vaguely see Íþróttaálfurinn, his golden hat and shirt seeming to glow in the mist. He towered above Sportacus, who was taking three steps to his every one and still struggling to keep up. For some reason, he was filled with dread, a sense that there was danger all around, but that there was nothing he could do otsay to make his father slow down. 

They were crouching on the bank of a fast-flowing river. Íþróttaálfurinn held a fish in his hands, took a bite of its flesh, then held it out to Sportacus. Catching fish was a way they had often passed the time together, it sharpened the reflexes and the fish were a good source of protein and oil. Sportacus hadn't loved to eat fish as a child, hadn't hated it either, but now the sight of the fish, its limp body and staring eyes, suddenly filled him with horror.

"No, Pabbi," he whined, but his father just stared at him, such disappointment in his eyes it made him ache. He looked at the fish again but every inch of him revulsed at the thought of taking a bite. 

"This one!" Someone was calling to him. "It's this one!" Robbie was there, standing in the middle of the river, although his clothes looked undamaged. Sportacus was relieved, he knew Robbie hated getting wet. Leaping fish swarmed all around him, and Robbie kept pointing at one in particular. The fin on its back seemed larger than the rest and oddly shaped, smooth but irregular. "It's this one, Sporta-daddy issues, biggest fear disappointing your father, how predictable..." He was rolling his eyes and shaking his head a little, teasing Sportacus. "Anyway, find this one, you've seen it before!"

Sportacus awoke on his bed, spooning the still-unresponsive Robbie. Quickly, he got to his feet, had the airship give him pen and paper, and sketched the shape from his dream. It did look familiar, but where had he seen it... 

He ran to the door, startling Glanni, who was snoring in a chair. Ignoring him, Sportacus leapt, and hit the ground running, not pausing for breath until he reached Robbies lair. He forced himself to ignore how empty and abandoned it felt, and scanned all around for the shape. Where had he seen it...

When he moved though to the bedroom he found it, a piece of stiff silver wire, lying on the floor by the bed. He'd noticed it in passing as he was putting Robbie to bed, right before the realisation that something was terribly wrong had driven it from his mind. Fishing around under the bed, he pulled out the rest of the device, weighing it in his hand and staying at it. It was obviously broken, he could see where the wire had snapped off. He just wasn't sure what to do next. 

"The Dreamnapper 3000," Glannis said. "He talked to me about this, actually. I thought it might be useful. Spy on a bank clerk dreaming about the combination for his safe, that sort of thing." He placed the device on the table. "Looks like I dodged a bullet."

"But why would he use it on me?" Sportacus paced, desperate to do something now that he had a lead, entirely uncertain of what. 

"I don't know, do I? Probably something disgustingly cute, like trying to find out what you wanted for your birthday." Glanni's lip curled. "Or maybe some weird sex thing," he brightened hopefully. 

"Well one thing is for certain." Sportacus stood, hands on hips, a determined frown on his face. "The first thing will be for me to fix it."


	3. Chapter 3

Robbie came to, not in the airship or the lair but on a cold, muddy mountain path surrounded by fog. It was a place he didn't recognise, and certainly would never willingly set foot, and he was forced to conclude that he was once again inside Sportacus' head. The air tasted bitter, and the rocks all around him seemed to be humming...

_he won't wake up he won't wake up Robbie won't_

... well that was disconcerting. 

He looked ahead through Sportacus' eyes and saw Íþróttaálfurinn, seeming to tower over Sportacus, a font of all knowledge and strength and everything that was good in the world, as Sportacus struggled to keep up with him.

So. Based on the fact that he had no memory of anything outside of Sportacus' dreams, he had to assume that the Dreamnapper had worked too well, and he was still asleep in the real world. And judging by the fact that it had caused Sportacus to have an anxiety dream - about failing to follow in his father's footsteps, sometimes his husband's pretty little head was so _predictable_ \- he must have been asleep for a while.

The dream jumped forward, and now Íþróttaálfurinn was trying to make Sportacus eat a raw fish. Sportacus as Robbie knew him loved fish. The first time Robbie had taken him to a sushi restaurant had been like all his Christmases had come at once, with raw fish and vegetables _and_ the fact that they came on a conveyer belt which was almost like a game; however judging by Sportacus' reaction in his dream, it had been an acquired taste. The sense of fear and disgust was so strong that it had Robbie looking somewhere, anywhere else to avoid the sight of the fish in front of him, when he spotted a leaping... what, salmon or something? that had a fin the exact shape of the Dreamnapper 3000. 

Whether the desire to do so was particularly strong, or whether he just hadn't really tried before, Robbie wasn't sure, but for the first time he found he was able to exist in the dream separately from Sportacus. He ran over to the fish, desperate to draw attention to it.

"Hey! Sporta-daddy issues..."

It appeared to work, Robbie thought. Sportacus definitely seemed to look his way. Although before he could make any further effort to communicate, everything went black again.

The next dream was terrifying. 

Sportacus was in a tunnel, some sort of a cave or a pipe. He (and therefore Robbie) didn't know how he'd got there, or why the kids were with him, vague voices and shapes up ahead, but it didn't matter. What mattered was it was small, barely big enough for the elf to fit, and dark, and something was _chasing_ them. 

He'd put himself at the back, between his charges and the source of danger, as was proper. But it meant he could see no more than a few feet ahead, and the darkness and the low ceiling seemed to press in on him until he could barely breathe. The soles of his feet tingled unpleasantly with the thought of what was behind him, and his elbows were bruised and bleeding from dragging himself along, chest so tight it _hurt_...

Robbie wished with all his heart he could be awake beside his husband, to soothe him and make him forget his nightmare, but he was still along for the ride. He wasn't sure how long it lasted, but eventually they emerged, and they were walking along a path. Everyone was tired, and Sportacus gathered them to him and sat in the roots of a big old tree to rest. There was still a sense of unease though, and Sportacus noticed the sun was setting, and just as it dipped beneath the treetops his anxiety reached by its peak, and the soil began to collapse beneath them and they all fell back down into the cave. 

Robbie manifested himself again, through sheer terror this time, and he called down to Sportacus, reached down to him. Sportacus reached back, but his eyes were still on the brats, and he woke up before Robbie saw which way he went.

Sportacus awoke with itching eyes, pressure in his head, muscles aching as if he'd been training for the Sports Elf Cup, even though all he'd done for the past few days, for what felt like forever, was work on Robbie's stupid little gun. Although _work on_ was probably an exaggeration. He had gently unscrewed the casing, revealing a mass of purple LEDs and wiring inside the device. Back when his eyesight had still been keen and his fingers hadn't felt full of splinters and jelly, he'd traced every single one, looking for loose connections or signs of burning, but there was nothing obvious, to him anyway.

Or to Glanni. The criminal had inspected the inside of the device and sniffed dismissively. "Nothing like this in my day," he'd declared, pretending he wasn't bothered that he too clearly had no idea how it worked. 

He'd taken the penthouse suite of the big hotel near the train station as his base of operations, and was visited frequently by informants, fences and cronies. He was trying to find something that might help, Sportacus knew, some artefact or device he could steal. The steady stream of Chinese food, crates of wine, lobby porters and chamber maids were presumably a coping mechanism, or maybe par for the course, Sportacus wasn't sure. But Glanni kept him in apples and water, and he sat with Robbie every day. He was doing his part. 

Sportacus was the one letting them down. He sleepwalked through his duties, repeating mechanically to the kids that he was fine, and Robbie was fine, leaving them unsettled like a hero never should. Then back to the airship, or to the lair, to try and rebuild a gadget made of capricious magic and technological whimsy. And he didn't just need to copy it. He needed to improve on it, make one that actually did what he wanted it to do. 

The next time he awoke, he was drenched in sweat, shaking and gasping, and he could even bring himself to remember the details of the dream. He'd made a mistake, some error of angles or timing, and he'd put force through a limb that was never designed to withstand it, and then there was blood and bone and everyone was looking at him like he was a monster. Robbie had been there too, bit whatever he was saying was muffled, muted, and Sportacus couldn't understand. 

He rolled out of bed, dragging his feet across the floor to the kitchen. After chugging a bottle of water, his eye landed on one of Robbies little espresso cups. Coffee was an infusion of dried plant matter, essentially. It was a bean. That was practically sports candy. The worst that could happen was it kept him awake for a while. And that currently sounded more than good to Sportacus.


	4. Chapter 4

Coffee did nothing except give him odd pins and needles in his mouth, and Sportacus wanted to tear his hair. It tasted foul, but Sportacus would have drunk a gallon of the stuff if it would have helped him find a way to help Robbie. He was used to thrumming with energy all day, sleeping soundly at night, but now, sick with worry, he was capable of neither. 

He kept jolting awake in strange places and positions, or else he would catch himself sitting and staring at nothing, unable to tell if he was actually asleep or not. It's When he dreamed, he occasionally saw Robbie, but often he was alone. 

Sportacus knew he couldn't solve the problem just by thinking. Robbie was the engineer, not him. But it wasn't beyond the realms of possibility that he might find something else of Robbie's design and be able to modify it somehow. A raygun that woke people up who were sleeping peacefully sounded like exactly the kind of thing Robbie might invent if he were feeling spiteful. He decided to search the lair again. Robbie was safe, he told himself, with the airship and Glanni looking after him.

The workbench, the little trestle table where Robbie liked to sew, the microwave... nothing. Or at least nothing that Sportacus could decipher. There was clearly a system behind the overall mess, but it was known only to Robbie. He couldn't get the disguise machine to do a thing. 

The bathroom and the wardrobe both contained an oddly large number of weapons, but nothing that looked like it might wake someone up. Finally, only the bedroom was left. Luxurious and cosy, secluded at the back of the bunker, it reminded him so strongly of Robbie he couldn't bear it. 

Sportacus buried his face in the mattress, breathed in Robbie's hot metal and burned sugar scent, and cried. 

Robbie was becoming very concerned. He kept popping in and out of existence, glimpsing brief fragments of dreams where Sportacus wandered along a desolate beach, and then nothing. Such broken sleep was so unlike his husband, and Robbie worried for him desperately. He was even beginning to feel slightly guilty about using the Dreamnapper. 

The next dream was different. Sportacus was walking up a hill, tired but determined, breathing in the sweet scent of the grass. Robbie knew, because Sportacus knew, that it was the way grass smelled in the elven land, that Sportacus was dreaming of home. 

He came to the top of the hill, and Robbie became aware of another figure behind them. They embraced and lay down together, suddenly kissing, as if it were the most logical thing in the world. Once again Robbie felt the little tug of unnamable emotion that meant that Sportacus was dreaming about him. He was desperate for the elf to open his eyes, to see what he looked like in his husband's mind, but Sportacus kept his eyes closed while he was kissing, because of course he did.

The kiss deepened, and they stroked each other with urgency, as though trying to touch every inch of skin. Then Sportacus was pushed onto his front, a big hand between his shoulder blades pinning him in place.

Pinning was a relative term; Sportacus could and often did do push-ups with Robbie balanced on his back; but Robbie knew the pleasure Sportacus derived from submitting, felt his heart leap with excitement as he let his limbs go relaxed and trembly. 

_Buy a guy dinner first,_ Robbie wanted to say to his dream-self, as he felt Sportacus' pants pulled unceremoniously down his hips. Face down and ass up in a muddy field didn't seem like much of a fantasy to Robbie, but he couldn't deny the excitement Sportacus was feeling at the prospect of being held down and fucked. He felt a firm grip to his hip, then stiff, blunt pressure, and the hot, painful pleasure of being stretched open. 

Robbie was very tempted to try and manifest, see if they could make this a three-way; but he didn't want to risk anything disrupting the dream. Sportacus was experiencing sheer bliss, shuddering with pleasure as he took every thrust, and Robbie could hear his own growling voice, breath hot against Sportacus' ear, and Robbie had thought he'd understood how sensitive they were, but _god..._

 _I'm really good at this,_ he thought deliriously. Sportacus' cock felt heavy and achy, like it was full of molten gold, and his hands fisted desperately in the grass in front of him. Robbie saw a second pair of hands, his own hands, with crisp white cuffs and dark hair at the wrists, covering Sportacus', their fingers intertwining. Then he rather lost track of what was happening and who was where, and everything was just sensation and joy.

The next thing he knew, he was lying beside Sportacus, stroking his hair as he rested his head on Robbie's shoulder. 

"This is you, isn't it? Not a dream you?" Sportacus said after a while. "I mean, the real you who's in my dreams, not just one I'm dreaming about... do you know what I mean?" he finished plaintively. 

"It's me," Robbie murmured, and then they just held each other for a while, kissing and clinging desperately. 

"I miss you so much, my Robbie, I don't know what to do," Sportacus said eventually. 

"I don't think I can tell you... I don't think I can tell you things you don't already know."

"I think I worked that out already, I think that's why you can tell me that." Robbie laughed. 

"Ok, Sportasmart, I get it. But I'm not worried. You're my hero, I know you can do it."

"I don't feel much like a hero." Sportacus nestled mournfully into Robbie's embrace. "I hate leaving you so much when someone's in trouble, but I couldn't do anything even if I stayed, and I'm so tired I can barely focus on the townspeople... I'm just not much good to anyone."

Robbie was incredulous. "You mean you haven't asked anyone for help? Your entire do-gooder family... your mother is a scientist for heavens sake! And that boy in town, the one always making moon eyes after Pinky. He's a genius! Our side is watching him, I'm sure yours are too. To be honest, I'm almost scared of what he could do if he did turn villain... anyway! You need to rest and you need to let people help you, Sportadork... See, you know this stuff already, Mister Healthy Hero. That's why I can tell you."

Sportacus awoke feeling refreshed and strangely optimistic. He was also ravenous, and even though it would only be a matter of minutes before he was back on the airship, writing his family and eating his own body weight in sports candy, he envied Robbie's ability to make whatever he wanted in the microwave...

The microwave...

...he could make whatever he wanted. 

Sportacus ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wholesome message of self care and team work, just like the show. Unlike the show, it's delivered via the medium of dream fucking.


	5. Chapter 5

It was amazing how quickly things changed once he asked for help, Sportacus thought. His family arrived in force, full of hugs, advice, and baskets of nourishing sports candy. Pabbi monitored the crystal, and staked out a seat in the hotel cafe from where he could read the paper, drink freshly squeezed orange juice, and keep an eye on Glanni. Mamma gathered her equipment and headed down to the lair. Diana took the kids off on a cross-country run.

Sportacus divided his time between caring for Robbie, and training to get back to his former strength. Really, it had only been a few days, but he felt a difference. His appetite returned, and come 8.08 he found he could sleep again. 

In his dream, Robbie told him he was a Sportaloon for trying to be a hero with the whole weight of the world on his shoulders, but that he forgave him because he had such pretty blue eyes. Robbie talked a lot, his voice fading out like a badly tuned radio whenever he mentioned something Sportacus didn't yet know, but when he said I love you that always came through.

Sportacus awoke feeling a combination of satisfaction and sorrow. He smoothed Robbie's soft black hair back from his forehead, pressed a kiss to his temple, and headed for the lair. 

His mother was bent with her head in the back of the microwave, surrounded by wires and little flashing lights. Pixel looked on, fascinated, handing her a different spanner or screwdriver every time she reached out her hand. 

"Ten," she smiled when she saw him. "You look better. And we're making good progress here. The key is going to be finding the right input, as the microwave is specifically calibrated for Robbie. Your father tried transferring some of his magic into Mr Glaepur, but it appears the resemblance wasn't enough. They've gone off to argue about it now."

Pixel was bursting with excitement. "So we thought, if we can't get the same power source, we could try a _bigger_ power source!" He looked at Arora. "Power source... magic source?"

She smiled again. "Both. We're going to use the airship."

"I'm gonna bring all my gadgets!" Pixel beamed. 

The small space felt crowded with everyone on board. Glanni sat with Robbie, scowling in the direction of the kitchen, where Íþróttaálfurinn ostentatiously ignored him and ate an apple. Beside him, Diana scowled back. The other two worked on the control panel, while Sportacus stroked the wall of the ship, soothing it.

The airship was more than happy to give the microwave the technomagical equivalent of a stern talking to, but the problem was connecting the two. Most of the wiring that Arora and Pixel tried either burned out or simply wouldn't conduct to begin with. They tried a variety of transducers, with similar results. 

Arora looked grave. "There is one thing we could try, Ten. I think it would work, if we used the crystal."

Sportacus held his crystal in his hand, feeling the familiar beloved weight of it. Being a hero was all he'd ever dreamed of; all he really knew how to do. 

With a deep breath, he gave the crystal to his mother. 

"I mean, we only need a tiny piece of it."

Sportacus felt weak with relief, but then his stomach began to churn unpleasantly as he thought of the implications. 

"Use mine!" Íþróttaálfurinn said, but Sportacus shook his head. 

"Mine has been around Robbie a long time. It might work better. Besides, it should be me. Diana, please could you take Pixel and..."

His sister was already moving, extending her hand. "Come on, kid," she said, "lets go down and look through the telescope."

With Pixel gone and Glanni respectfully averting his eyes, Sportacus braced himself, his father's arms around his shoulders. He choked back a single sob as his mother chipped a tiny flake from the edge of the crystal. The pain was bad, but the sense of emptiness, of something missing afterwards was worse. Like the gap where a tooth used to be. 

When Sportacus could focus again,he lifted his head and saw Arora making the final adjustments to a mass of wiring that connected the open panel of the ship to the back of the microwave, with the fragment of crystal nestled snugly in the middle. And in the end, it was almost anticlimactic. They placed the Dreamnapper in the microwave and closed the door. The humming tone of the ship's engine changed slightly, the microwave crackled and flashed. The door pinged open, and when Sportacus looked he saw that the silver and purple barrel had changed to orange. 

Sportacus felt strangely weak as he hefted the device in his hands. He looked at it and then at Robbie, mind racing with all the potential things that could go wrong, and for a moment he was paralysed. 

Then he scooped up his crystal and restored it to its rightful place, above his heart. With a deep breath in, he took his stance, as though preparing for the worlds most difficult flip, took aim and fired. 

Sportacus always found it fascinating to watch Robbie waking up. The contented smile as he became aware of the warmth and comfort of his pillows, the delicate frown ever deepening as he realised that that awareness meant he was awake, then the pout and the eyes screwed tightly shut as he tried to deny the world's existence, before he finally cracked an eye open.

"Hey, what are you all -" he began, outraged, until the memory of what had happened suddenly hit him. He stared at his hands, the ceiling, and finally at Sportacus. "I'm awake!" he gasped. "You did it!" 

Sportacus flew into his arms, grabbed him round his waist, laughing and crying. 

"Nice pajamas, son," Glanni said, but his voice was a little husky, and he tousled Robbie's hair. Everyone was jubilant, laughing and talking all at once, but Sportacus just tuned them out, just breathing the scent of Robbie, feeling him moving in his arms. 

"Im so happy for you both! Having said that, I think we should go," Arora finally decided. "We'll stay in town a few more days in case you need anything. 

"A fine idea! Let's give these two some privacy!" Glanni declared, and made for the exit, until he was stopped by Íþróttaálfurinn's hand on his shoulder. 

"Turn out your pockets, Glaepur." 

With an expression of innocence so sincere it went beyond parody, Glanni spread his hands.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're _jingling._ " He reached into the pockets of Glanni's leopard print overcoat and pulled out a handful of gold coins. 

"Well, the museum didn't have anything useful, so I figured they owed me at least some form of compensation... Look! A football!" He wriggled out of the overcoat and ran. Íþróttaálfurinn made to follow him, until Arora stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and a nod towards Sportacus. 

"Five minute head start!" he called after the fleeing criminal. "I'm proud of you, son," he said to Sportacus, with nod to Robbie. "If there's anything you need, you know where we are."

"Bye, Sportacus! Bye, Robbie!" Pixel called, and then all was quiet. 

Sportacus lay in the bed beside Robbie, cradling him, stroking his hair and tracing the bones of his face and back with his fingertips. "So beautiful," he murmured. "I'm so lucky, I've got you back, my Robbie..."

He laughed suddenly, the happiness overwhelming him to the point where he had to sprint around the bed and throw a handspring or two, before hurling himself back into the bed. 

"Hey!" Robbie protested, but he was laughing too. He wrapped his long limbs around his husband, a futile attempt to wrestle him into submission. "Hey, what's all the fuss about? I knew you'd do it, Mr Hero." He felt a dazed kind of happiness, letting Sportacus' delighted affection wash over him. 

"So happy," the elf was murmuring, "I'm so happy, my Robbie, I got you back, it's like..."

Robbie felt him stiffen, scrambling until he was staring right into Robbie's eyes. 

"It's like a dream Robbie. It's still a dream, what if it's still a dream..."

"It's not!" Robbie insisted, but he could see Sportacus' wide eyes, his ears tucking protectively back against his skull, and Robbie knew he was terrified. "It's real, I can prove it to you, look..." He took a deep breath. "When I was small, I was friends with a little boy who lived in my street. His mother was a half orc, I thought she was beautiful, and I wanted my father to marry her. Anyway, my friend had a little purple car, a shiny remote control car, and I wanted it so badly... I stole it and went home. Afterwards I got worried that he would find out, so I planned to bring it back the next day, say I found it. But then that same night, father got into trouble and we had to go on the run. I was delighted! I got to keep the car! I think I've still got it somewhere now."

Robbie sighed. "There you go, I've told you something you didn't know about me. And there's no way you would have dreamed it up yourself. You think far to well of me, much more than I deserve." With Sportacus more settled, Robbie could take in his weight loss, the shadows under his eyes. "I'm sorry for what I did. I'm a villain; most of the time, when I have a problem, my solutions will be bad ones. But I know we're awake now, because of you." He stroked Sportacus' hair, kissed him softly. "I can't taste colours, there's no annoying music... definitely not inside your head any more."

Sportacus frowned a little. "You can't taste colours?"

"I never could..."

"I never knew that about you."

"See, another thing I told you that you didn't already know, so it can't be a dream." He felt Sportacus relax against him, felt him nuzzle against him so hard it might properly be called a head butt. Robbie realised he was crying. 

They kissed, and Robbie felt Sportacus lick the salty tears from his face like a cat, before his hot tongue trailed lower, caressing the sensitive areas of Robbie's throat. One hand carded gently through his hair, while the other fumbled with pajama buttons. Taking his weight on his hands, Sportacus rubbed his face against Robbie's chest hair, running his tongue across a nipple before drawing it into his mouth and suckling. 

Robbie moaned, now very much awake. He stroked Sportacus' hair as he moved his head lower, kissing Robbie's belly and nibbling on a sharp hipbone. 

"Are you sure?"

"Let me, Robbie. Let me take care of you."

His mouth was hot, his tongue eager, and Robbie could do nothing more than lay back and groan as Sportacus swallowed him, over and over, mouthing against his balls and lapping at his precum until he was right on the edge, right there, and he fumbled with his hands until he managed to pull Sportacus back, guiding him back up until he could see his husband's beautiful face. 

He grasped and pressed their cocks together, sliding over each other and the mess of spit and precum. "Please, Robbie, oh gosh," Sportacus was panting, bucking his hips, "let me feel you." Robbie ground against him, shuddering, coming over Sportacus' belly with a growl and a choked back curse. Sportacus moaned and clung to Robbie, eyes rolling back in his head as he too found his release.

"So that was ok?" Robbie teased afterwards, languid against Sportacus' chest. "Not quite as sexy as a field, obviously... maybe I could throw some leaves around, a few sticks, maybe a muddy puddle?"

Sportacus chuckled. "Outside with a tall, dark, handsome stranger... I don't think it's that weird."

"But you wouldn't prefer, I don't know, a hot sunny beach? Cocktails, tropical flowers..."

"Could I swim?" Robbie rolled his eyes. 

"If you can get your father to babysit the crystal for a week, and the airship could handle the distance, I might even swim myself."

Almost before he'd finished talking, Sportacus leapt from the bed and was pulling his uniform on. Robbie shook his head fondly and began mentally reviewing his vacation wardrobe, as Sportacus grabbed his boot and hopped across the floor.


End file.
